


Playing Fair

by mistyzeo



Series: With Benefits (hate!sex) [8]
Category: Actor RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Handjob in a diner.  That is all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obstinatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/gifts).



> "Public sex" fill for kink bingo, birthday present for Obstinatrix.

They get out of the movie a little after nine thirty, and Jared’s starving. Jensen rolls his eyes and sighs, long suffering, when he says so, and moans, “Jesus, you’re a bottomless pit. Tub of popcorn wasn’t enough for you?”

“First of all,” Jared protests, climbing into Jensen’s car, “it was a small popcorn, not a tub. Second of all, I haven’t had anything besides that since lunch, and I’m hungry. Now take me somewhere nice.”

“Pushy,” Jensen says, starting the car. “I’ll show you nice.”

They go to a diner. It’s a diner they’ve been to a dozen times already, and Genevieve is hostessing. She seats them in a booth in the corner, and Jensen slides in beside Jared instead of sitting across from him.

“I’m gonna have onion rings,” Jensen says to their server, a kid from school named Mark, “and a cheese burger with a side salad.”

“You know the onion rings and the salad cancel each other out,” Jared says.

“Yes, that’s the point,” Jensen says, and he pats Jared’s knee under the table. “I thought you were starving. Stop bitching at me and order.”

“Can I have a chicken salad sandwich, and a chocolate milkshake?”

“Two straws,” Jensen says, flipping the menu closed and handing them both over.

“Thanks,” Jared says, a little apologetically. Jensen’s friends know he’s prickly on the outside only, but most people just think he’s an asshole in general. Mark finishes writing it all down, nodding and snapping his gum, and leaves.

“Who invited you to my milkshake?” Jared demands, turning to look at Jensen. He’s smirking that irritating smirk of his, the _I get what I want_ smirk, and he shrugs.

“I’m buying,” Jensen says, “so I guess I did.”

“Then I get some of your onion rings.”

“Fuck you, no!”

“Don’t be a dick,” Jared says, reaching back to wrap his arm around Jensen’s shoulders and pull him into the best headlock he can, given the circumstances and the diner table in the way.

Jensen yelps and wrestles with him, fighting dirty and poking his fingers into Jared’s side where he’s ticklish. Jared lets go and pushes him, and Jensen slips his hand into Jared’s lap and grips his soft dick through his pants.

“Dude,” Jared hisses, going still instantly and giving up the game. “No fair.”

“Oh, were we playing fair?” Jensen asks, and gives Jared a squeeze. Jared swallows hard, trying to press back in the seat and distance himself from Jensen’s hand, but obviously Jensen’s hand just follows him, squeezing tighter. Jared tries bracing himself with his hands against the table, and Jensen leans in close. He starts to massage Jared very slowly through his pants, and at the same time blows a little stream of air at his neck, below his ear.

“Jensen,” Jared croaks, “knock it off.”

Jensen kisses his neck instead of listening to him, soft little brushes of his lips that make Jared shiver. He doesn’t take his hand out of Jared’s lap either, rubbing the length of Jared’s not-so-soft cock with his thumb. Jared can feel himself hardening under Jensen’s palm, swelling and thickening as Jensen touches him, and he slumps down in his seat a little, pushing his hips out and his knees apart. Jensen lets out the tiniest of breaths, a little sigh of satisfaction, and Jared’s now-mostly-hard cock twitches.

“We’re in public,” Jared tries, but that only makes Jensen smile and spread his hand wide until his thumb reaches the fat head of Jared’s dick and his fingertips are tucked under the weight of Jared’s balls. He gives the whole package a friendly grope, and starts drawing circles on the paper placemat in front of him, with the wet end of the straw from his water glass.

“So,” he says casually, and he starts to talk about something— probably cheerleading, because he’s lame— but Jared can’t focus on it because of the way Jensen’s big hand is cupped around his junk. Jensen is fondling him _in public_ , in the diner where one of his best friends works, and Jared can’t— or doesn’t want to— do a single thing about it. Instead, he sinks a little farther down in the seat.

“You’re not paying attention to me,” Jensen accuses.

“Oh, no,” Jared says, shaking his head firmly, “I’m paying a lot of attention, but not to anything that’s coming out of your mouth.”

Jensen grins at that, and half-turns to Jared, leaning in close again. “Would it help if what I was saying was more relevant to your current state of distraction?”

“No,” Jared says quickly, “do not. Not here, not now. I’ll let you grope me like a pervert until our food comes, but I will not let you talk me off.”

“You are zero fun,” Jensen says. Jared already knows that he’s not going to listen to him, because Jensen never listens to him and always does what he wants, but he thinks a token protest is in order just so he can claim that he was against it from the start. Even if Jensen’s hand feels really good, just squeezing up and down his length, rubbing firmly over the head of his cock and scratching his fingernails against his balls through the denim of his jeans.

Jared bites his lip. His cock is throbbing, pulsing out pre-come like he hasn’t gotten off in a week, which is fucking ridiculous because Jensen blew him before the movie in the car for no reason, and he is nothing if not sexually satisfied around his boyfriend. Still, Jensen has this power over him, this daunting allure that makes Jared weak in the knees and stupid in the head, and he lets Jensen get away with all kinds of stuff that he knows he’ll be mortified about in the morning.

For example, Mark coming back with his (their) milkshake and Jensen accepting it with his left hand, his right hand still clamped tight around Jared’s crotch. Jensen winks and starts sucking on the straw immediately, and Mark gives him a weird look and thankfully turns the other direction to walk away. Jared can’t hold in a little whimper, and Jensen squeezes him hard enough to make him jerk in his seat. His lips are wrapped around the straw, pink and full and pouty, and it’s calculated deliberately to make Jared think about Jensen’s mouth on his dick three hours ago.

His hips hitch, pushing into Jensen’s hand, and he risks a look over his shoulder, terrified. Gen is at the hostess stand, looking bored, and Jared looks away quickly. If she catches his eye and comes over here, Jared will die. He will actually die.

“Milkshake’s good,” Jensen says, rubbing his thumb around the wet spot forming at the head of Jared’s dick, massaging it into his over-sensitive skin, “you want any?”

Jared chokes back a moan and shakes his head. His thighs are trembling, and if the kitchen takes any longer with his fucking chicken salad, he’s going to be eating it in sticky boxers.

Jensen’s biting his lip now, and rubbing him harder. The heel of his hand digs into Jared’s groin, harsh pressure adding an edge to the pleasure that makes him shudder all over. He hunches over Jensen’s hand, gasping, and Jensen leans in.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers, and kisses Jared’s ear. “You let me do anything, jesus; I’m so hard right now, just from watching you. Your friend’s looking over here, by the way.”

“No,” Jared says quickly, “don’t make eye contact. _Fuck._ ”

“Oops,” Jensen says. “She’s coming to say hi.”

Jared’s knee hits the underside of the table, and Jensen’s hand disappears. For a moment, he’s hanging there, moments from coming, his cock pulsing and his balls pulled up so tight he wants to cry. Then it subsides, leaving him aching, and Gen sidles up to their table.

“Hey, Jared,” she says. “Ackles. What are y’all up to tonight?”

“Saw a movie,” Jensen says, leaning both elbows on the table and sipping the milkshake again. “Jay was hungry; demanded we come in here of all places.”

“Oh yeah?” She grins.

Jared nods, catching his breath. He must look ridiculous, slumped in his seat, flushed and sweaty. Gen gives him a strange look, raising her eyebrow, and he smiles weakly.

“I really like the, um,” he says, “view.”

She snorts. “Okay, suck-up,” she says, swatting him on the back of the head, “whatever. You’re lucky I got people coming in the door.” She blows them a kiss, and walks away.

Jensen’s hand is back without warning, but Jared should have seen it coming. Jensen leans into him and puts his lips against Jared’s ear, and Jared sucks in a breath to keep from moaning.

“I could get down and suck you,” Jensen whispers, “just get under the table and suck you off; think they’d see? See you coming in my mouth?”

Jared’s cock leaps, pressed tight against the seam of his pants, and he whimpers tightly. He has to kiss Jensen— he has to kiss him _now_ , otherwise he’ll cry out and give up the game. He’s going to come. Jensen is going to win.

He grabs Jensen by the back of the neck and slams their mouths together, and Jensen’s hand clamps down tight around his dick. Jared can feel it swell, hardening further, and Jensen gasps into the rough kiss and gives him one last grinding rub. Jared’s knuckles go white as he grips the table, and he blows his load down the leg of his jeans, sticky and hot and so fucking good.

Mark clears his throat loudly, and Jensen jumps away from Jared, caught off guard, almost knocking over the milkshake. Mark is holding two plates full of food, and Jared can’t even remember what he ordered. His cock is pulsing out the last, slow, sticky spurts of come, the dark stain on his jeans spreading, and he closes his mouth tightly and breathes through his nose, staring intently at the formica table.

Jensen takes the plates very quickly and Mark leaves at the double. Jared’s terrified he’ll report them, get them thrown out of the only diner in town, but Jensen hisses, “Oh calm down, he won’t say anything. I bet he doesn’t even know what happened.”

Jared bets he does. He wipes his hands hopelessly on the outsides of his legs and tries to shift up in the seat without making it worse. The come in his boxers leaks down his thigh, soaking through the cotton and cooling unpleasant and sticky in his leg hair.

“I’m actually going to kill you,” he tells Jensen.

“Shut up,” Jensen says, cramming an onion ring into his mouth as cheerfully as if they’ve spent the last ten minutes talking about the plot points of the movie— which Jared can’t remember either now— instead of breaking public decency laws or whatever. “You’re fucking hot when you come, I can’t help it. I’m so turned on.”

“Yeah, you look it,” Jared says, trying to pick up his sandwich and failing, his hands are shaking so hard.

“If I took out my dick, would you suck it? Right now?”

“Fuck you, no.”

“It’ll only take a second.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jensen,” Jared says, and he can tell he’s bright red. “You deserve to suffer.”

“Bitch,” Jensen mutters, taking another gulp of milkshake.

“Fucking jerk,” Jared replies, and squelches awkwardly the whole rest of the meal.


End file.
